Review Category: DVD/Blu Ray

One Piece Collection 11 covers episodes 253 – 275, half of which finishes off the Water 7 arc started in the previous ensemble.

After the moribund events, the climax is far from fulfilling, with The Straw Hat Pirates racing after the secretive CP9 and willing captive Robin in a prototype fly-by-night sea train. Meanwhile, Franky, Usopp and Sanji (who make a great team, incidentally) go from carriage to carriage, knocking off the small fry and taking out periodically tough baddies, as if it were a dungeon crawler. Episodes here dwell on events longer than they ought to, with the gap between filler and functionality widening. Sanji’s fight against rival chef and nut job Ramen Kempo, who, like his name suggests, fights with noodles, is spread over three episodes when even one was pushing it. Usopp dons the Sniper King façade with an infectious theme song and rapturous gags, to side-step his recent departure from the Straw Hats. Luffy, meanwhile, encounters various adversaries and obstacles along the tracks but their rescue mission won’t be deterred.

Episode 264 sees the start of the Enies Lobby arc, centred on the titular night-less island with its impressive and physics defying geography. It might be a contentious point as to whether the arc is a separate entity or an extension of Water 7; in whatever case, both fall under the same umbrella saga and make for one of the series’ utmost periods. It continues the same trend of evocative and moody storytelling, but is much more action orientated than Water 7, leaving little breathing room in the persistent barrage of fight sequences. It’s an arc that sees all the Straw Hats getting stronger and honing their abilities. There’s really only one way to test them out, and the proof is in the punches.

Together with the Franky Family, the pirates’ battle through the island’s various defences, and its rinse and repeat until the collection closer. The final episode offers a revealing and unlikely look into Robin’s fraught past, leaving, like its predecessor, the arc unfinished. While you might feel cheated, the cliff hanger and choice of quality dubs will have you shelling out for the next instalment anyway. Fans, however, already know the best is yet to come, with the latter half of the arc boasting plenty of pivotal moments.

Special Features: Opening animation / Closing animation / Audio commentaries / Behind the scenes featurette

ONE PIECE COLLETION 11 / CERT: 12 / DIRECTOR: KONOSUKE UDA / SCREENPLAY: VARIOUS / STARRING: AKEMI OKAMURA, HIROAKI HIRATA, IKUE OHTANI, KAPPEI YAMAGUCHI / RELEASE DATE: AUGUST 10TH

 

Not a lick on the lot in John Carpenter’s much maligned Vampires, the bounty hunters in The Night Crew are far less cool than restauranteur-turned-director Christian Sesma would have us believe. From its opening, a guerrilla-style shoot down a dishevelled Mexican town, to a non-specific nightclub, the camera hones in on the bare breasts and skimpy undies of its dancing pundits. It smacks of exploitation of the most organised and obvious kind. Sesma might be gunning for titillation, but it’s a sanitised sexuality: dolled-up, dead-eyed and commoditised.

One dancer, Mae (Chasty Ballesteros), is accosted by unsavoury types. She might dispatch them tout suite, but they soon catch up to her. Enter the Night Crew, a trigger happy, cocksure bunch who pinch Mae and close a 12 hour window to the American border. After various incidents, with an increasingly withdrawn and bleary eyed Mae, the Crew hold up in a desert motel and await the cartel cavalry.

The Crew is a pressure cooker of condensing musicality, even Rose (Luciana Faulhaber) falls into the ‘strong female’ archetype. When the script does deign to develop her beyond ‘one of the guys’, she’s the needy epicentre centre of a tiresome love triangle, bookended by prettier-than-thou Crenshaw (Bokeem Woodbine) and Luke Goss’ main man Wade; squinting, gruff and moralistic. Blockhead Ronnie (Paul Sloan, who co-wrote alongside Sesma) smokes while he’s pumping petrol, ‘cos that’s just the kind of guy he is. Jason Mewes fails to shed his stoner image, filling an utterly redundant role, as if Jay outgrew Silent Bob, struck out on his own and became a dope-totin’ cop. Danny Trejo gives his usual shtick, having much less fun than he did in Machete and a lot less to do than From Dusk Till Dawn, but necking with a naked Ballesteros must have twisted his arm.

Mae is impossibly strong, super-fast, quick to heal, and dressed like The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo’s Lisbeth. If you’re at all surprised by its vampiric revelations, then you deserve to have your movies spoiled for you. With less time spent on T and A, vampirism and populating a Mexico stuck infinitely in Day of the Dead celebrations with drug cartels and bounty hunters, it could have wound up a half-decent, under-the-radar action movie.

The Night Crew’s stop gap is action, and there’s plenty of it, with hundreds of bullets going wide of their marks. Chances are Michael Bay will never try his hand at a vampire movie, but The Night Crew is a good indication of what that might look like. It might be light on some of the more repugnant pockets of Bay’s career, but the humdrum action, systematic story and tedious characters make sure it’s never far behind.

THE NIGHT CREW / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR: CHRISTIAN SESMA / SCREENPLAY: CHRISTIAN SESMA, PAUL SLOAN / STARRING: DANNY TREJO, LUKE GOSS, JASON MEWES, CHASTY BALLESTEROS, LUCIANA FAULHABER / RELEASE DATE: AUGUST 10TH

 

After their school closes, sea dwellers Sakishima Hikari, Mukaido Manaka, Hiradaira Chisaki and Isaki Kaname are forced to rub shoulders with the land dwellers. Their creation myth begins the same way, all humans once lived in the sea, but there were those that longed for the land and cast off their protective ena. In the centuries since, prejudices have formed on both sides of the societal divide, with the surface and sea people calling each other pigs and fish, respectively. It isn’t long after integration and setting aside their few differences that apocalyptic rumblings start shaking, and a calamity that’ll effect both ecosystems closes in.

Both cultures are fully realised, but the underwater mecca of Shioshishio, like a sunken Grecian city, is majestic in design and indicative of a society with a distinct past, flourishing present and a future every bit as uncertain as our own. Life on land is just as detailed, with the setting evoking contemporary Japan mixed in with the fantastical. Crucially, the setting looks used and lived in, and only adds to the sense that we’re watching a handful of a hundred stories play out.

Instead of coddling the viewer with exposition early on, A Lull in the Sea chucks you in at the deep end and drip feeds the details. In lesser hands, perhaps the series wouldn’t have had the same resonance or emotional impact, but screenwriter Mari Okada gradually introduces the many characters, making the viewer feel more a part of the protagonists’ tight knit group than a passive observer. There’s some blanket explanations, and the occasional need to stop and explain plot points, but by the half way point, their drama is your drama and their tears are your tears.

Hikari is on the cusp of manhood and dealing with the anger and excitement of adolescence, where every emotion is too big for your body. He’s not particularly attentive, but his unending love for his friends and family is meant well but misdirected. More than any of the other characters, he’s caught between the views of the older generation and the reality of being a middle schooler on land. It’s this generational divide that’s at the heart of the series and provides the narrative kick. Manaka, on the other hand, is easily embarrassed with a sheepish attitude that no doubt extends from so many humiliating experiences. It’s not that she’s awkward that curries so much pathos, but because she’s the lynchpin of the family unit and takes on their pain and failings. Her trajectory, even in this first curve, outshines any other in complexity and depth. She’s first introduced to land dweller Tsumugu Kihara after he accidentally catches her in a fishing net, sparking a Capulet/Montague romance (minus the underage sex and suicide, of course). Counterpointing her self-consciousness, he’s introspective and intuitive and fascinated with all things Shioshishio.

The slow burn plot is married with one of the most beautiful examples of animation. The characters are exquisitely rendered, but it’s the attention to background detail that sells the awe inspiring backdrops, whether it’s reflections, the glimmering ena or the undulating jelly fish that swim into frame. Even the English dub is up to snuff. Toshiya Shinohara’s direction coupled with the delicate acoustic score makes A Lull in the Sea a wondrous, unconventional and heart-warming journey. And that’s just the first half.

Special Features: Clean opening and ending / Bonus Episode 14 / Trailers

A LULL IN THE SEA PART 1 / CERT: 12 / DIRECTOR: TOSHIYA SHINOHARA / SCREENPLAY: MARI OKADA / STARRING: NATSUKI HANAE, MAX MITTELMAN, KANA HANAZAWA, MICHELLE RUFF, AI KAYANO, BRIANNA KNICKERBOCKER / RELEASE DATE: AUGUST 10TH

 

The opening montage for The Lake on Clinton Road shows what is apparently the most haunted stretch of road in the United States, and turns out to be the most interesting part of the film. If familiarity breeds contempt then what follows is a study in annoyance as yet another group of overly-pretty twenty-somethings head off into the woods to meet their bloody fates one by one.

This is DeShon Hardy’s first feature and he deserves respect for getting his film made, but there is an unavoidable amateurish feeling about the whole production. Everything feels a little raw and unpolished, and you could be forgiven for thinking this is a university or college project rather than a film for general release. There is a sense that Hardy gathered up a few friends and headed out to a cabin with a couple cameras and just filmed whatever came to mind. The acting, the dialogue and the camerawork are all too inconsistent to form a cohesive narrative, and the legend of a vengeful ghost boy upon which the film revolves never feels fully thought out or convincing.

That said that, there is something interesting here; a shadowy glimpse if you will into the future. Amidst the over-acting and questionable politics (one scene where the boys watch the girls exercise is particularly uncomfortable) there are moments of tension and the beginnings of an oppressive atmosphere. There is no doubting Hardy’s enthusiasm and ambition but a less-is-more-approach would have been advisable, allowing scenes to develop and suspense to build rather than rushing from one ill-conceived set piece to the next. This is a director with a future, but as Hardy’s filmography grows his debut may quickly be forgotten.

Given the sheer number of similarly themed films that exist, The Lake on Clinton Road is sadly not really worthy of attention. It aspires to be chilling like The Blair Witch Project and bloody like Friday the 13th but never really establishes a narrative capable of even slightly mimicking these films.

It is probably for the best if everyone involved just moves on very quickly.

THE LAKE ON CLINTON ROAD / CERT: TBC / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: DESHON HARDY / STARRING: INDIA AUTRY, ARAM BAUMAN, ALAN BENDICH, ANT GRANT, DESHON HARDY / RELEASE DATE: TBC
 

There is something eternally enthralling about Alice in Wonderland, or Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland to give Lewis Carroll’s seminal work its proper title. Since the first adaptation appeared in 1903 there have been more than 40 films and television programmes based on this most renowned example of “literary nonsense”, and now Nick Willing’s star-studded 1999 version is getting a new DVD release.

Watched in one sitting this film feels a little drawn out and at 150 minutes it does require a certain commitment, but apart from some changes to the central narrative it is a reasonably faithful adaptation. Willing has successfully captured the bizarreness of Carroll’s tale of a young girl disappearing down a rabbit hole into a world created by her own dreams, and one populated by some of most memorable characters in literature. Original themes remain, and there is the added sub-plot of Alice needing to find the courage and confidence to perform in public, and it is hard to imagine fans of the source material finding too much fault.

As with any version though, the performances are everything. Martin Short’s wonderfully “mad” Mad Hatter and Miranda Richardson’s Queen of Hearts (think of her Queen Elizabeth I from Blackadder turned up a few notches on the madness scale with added shrieking) are the standouts in a cast full of surprises that keeps the familiar story entertaining. Around every corner lurks another big name, with Jason Flemyng virtually unrecognisable as Jack and Whoopi Goldberg intermittently grinning her way through the film as the slightly peripheral Cheshire Cat.

Given the film’s initial home on television, and the chapter definition of the book, it is perhaps understandable there is a slightly episodic feel to the film. Unavoidably, it exists as a series of madcap comedy skits linked together by quieter, more thoughtful interludes, but this somehow enhances the story as Alice slowly learns something different from each of her encounters.

Much of the fun in the film comes from the work of Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, for which it won one of four Emmy Awards at the time of release. The mix of puppetry, live-action and special effects is hugely nostalgic in an age when a reliance on CGI dominates filmmaking, and children perhaps more than adults will find the superbly designed creatures both fascinating and engaging.

One thing is for certain; this version of Alice in Wonderland is less divisive than Tim Burton’s hugely successful yet widely criticised interpretation. There really is nothing not to like here but it would be recommended to watch this film as it was originally intended: as a mini-series. 150 minutes is a long time to spend in Wonderland in one go.

ALICE IN WONDERLAND / CERT: U / DIRECTOR: NICK WILLING / SCREENPLAY: PETER BARNES / STARRING: TINA MAJORINO, MARTIN SHORT, MIRANDA RICHARDSON, CHRISTOPHER LLOYD, WHOOPI GOLDBERG, BEN KINGSLEY, GENE WILDER / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

 

What begins as an admittedly quaint museum piece of pulpy British filmmaking quickly changes into quite a sinister film without losing any of that vintage hook that’s surely the main source of appeal for films such as Payroll. Payroll doesn’t just tell the story of a heist, but just how wrong a heist can go. It revels in how its characters are hardly the stuff of moral complexity, yet their constant sparring from the disastrous fallout of the criminals’ heist attempt, mixed with the devilishly twisting script, drives the film with ruthless charm.

Watching Payroll, it almost feels like director Sidney Hayers (who also cut his teeth filming episodes of The A-Team, Knight Rider (!), Baywatch (!!) and the dungaree-tastic version of The Famous Five from the late 70s (!!!)) spent the entire production advising his cast to spew forth as thuggishly rigid a performance as possible, whilst choreographing everything else with a deft sense of delicate precision.

Everything is shot with a near-perfect balance of grace and grit, and fans of long-ago industrial landscapes in movies will find much to revel in Payroll’s down-and-dirty setting of Newcastle, full of cramped, dishevelled pubs and backstreets too rough for anything other than feet to venture down into. And a pre-Omen Billie Whitelaw is always a source of nerdy, reel-centred interest.

Payroll does have its misgivings though, which really would come to light had the film been handled in any way other than the brutal manner in which it’s produced here. The characters have a vague whiff of stereotypical stock fodder, but any whiff of such smells is shooed away by how hard everything Payroll hammers into you. Similarly, the script has all the clichéd revenge tactics every character can think of, and the police are utter cretins in making some sort of orderly resolution to everyone’s crimes. One copper even has the nerve to fall for Whitelaw’s hateful widow character, a plot device that can hardly be called welcome in any context.

But Payroll is such a beast of a film, any criticism of it is in danger of being beaten to a pulp. Payroll has moments of pure, palpable violence that somehow never stray from its gorgeously classic production values. It’s also all the more chilling when one remembers that even in the year of the film’s release, 1961, the death penalty was still a justifiable means of punishment for criminals. However, given the fates some of these characters receive, swinging from the gallows may well look rather tame. A marvellous slice of somewhat-forgotten vintage filmmaking, with everything let loose in raw form.

PAYROLL / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR: SIDNEY HAYERS / SCREENPLAY: GEORGE BAXT / STARRING: MICHAEL CRAIG, FRANCOISE PREVOST, BILLIE WHITELAW / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

 

Any attempt to fully understand Robert Altman’s 3 Women will be met with unavoidable and frustrating futility. Allowing it to simply wash over you becomes the only option as there is nothing that can truly prepare you for the absurd viewing experience delivered or the dream-like plane (more on that later) that the film exists in.

Pinky (Sissy Spacek) is a young woman who recently moved to California and takes a job in what appears to be a watery rehabilitation centre for the sun-kissed geriatrics of the area. From the outset it is clear there is something in her personality that is a little off; a mischievous, almost playful streak that she may or may not be entirely conscious of, but also a sense of great naivety. At the centre she becomes unhealthily attached to Millie (Shelley Duvall), an overly upbeat loner who constantly and chirpily imparts herself into other people’s conversations and social groups, often with little or no attention still being paid to her. After moving in together, Millie introduces Pinky to her local bar where she encounters Willie (Janice Rule), a pregnant, surreal artist with a gun-toting, self-proclaimed gigolo for a partner. Eventually the women discover a strange connection that will ultimately benefit them all.

Nothing in what is probably Altman’s most unpredictable and bizarre work is as it seems, with character personalities and their entwined relationships fluctuating from one scene to the next. One moment Millie is berating Pinky for being a child-like bind on her and for ruining a dinner party that was never going to happen. Later the roles reverse, with Pinky gaining confidence and engaging with the people Millie has been shunned by time and again, pushing the latter awkwardly further to the periphery. From the outset Altman challenges his audience to keep up, to try and understand what the auteur director is trying to say. The interesting thing is there is no indication the director fully understood the concept himself, even admitting in the past that some of the film’s complexities remain a mystery even to him. Much of this confusion stems from the film’s origins, with the initial idea appearing to Altman in a dream and with production commencing before an ending had really been considered.

Running themes of birth and rebirth typified by the reference to and existence of water throughout are clear, with the final act being both shocking and strangely inevitable given what has gone before. What immediately follows is not, and while it may add some justification to the character’s arcs it still feels a little convenient, however bizarre it might be.

Horror tropes are present, with the strongest coming from many of Duvall’s brilliantly disconcerting reaction shots, but Altman draws back from delivering a truly scary film, preferring confused ambiguity over outright mania.

Impossible to classify by traditional means, memorable and a film that almost demands repeat viewing, but is 3 Women actually an enjoyable experience? Bemused respect will be found in the unfaltering performances and the confidence of a director at his peak, who at the time clearly pandered to no-one, but a great deal will still depend upon how you approach the film. An open mind is essential.

Special Features: New interview with Altman specialist, David Thompson / Archive interview with Shelley Duvall / Gallery / Trailer / Collector’s booklet

3 WOMEN / CERT: PG / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: ROBERT ALTMAN / STARRING: SHELLEY DUVALL, SISSY SPACEK, JANICE RULE, ROBERT FORTIER / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW

 

Taking inspiration from Agatha Christie’s mystery masterpiece And Then There Were None, Ten sees a disparate group of women stranded in a creepy old house on a remote island, stuck in each other’s company as they wait out a storm. As a killer stalks the shadows of the old building and one by one they are picked off, it soon becomes apparent that none of them are who they first appeared to be.

On the surface, Ten appears to be merely another example of the kind of single-concept slasher flick that should have died out in the ‘90s, notable only for its entirely female cast. However, its premise is deviously subversive and the film ultimately reveals itself to be a great deal more than the sum of its parts.

The characters and their appearances are all deliberate female archetypes; none of them are ever referred to by name, and each is credited by her defined role, such as the Actress, the Doctor, the Folk Singer or the Historian. The film uses the stereotypical characteristics and appearances to make a statement about the perception of women in film: female characters are often granted only a single defining attribute, as if this one aspect of their personality can completely define them as a person, and is usually one that indicates how they are perceived by men.

The Renegade is a butch, spike-haired, tattooed nonconformist; the Real Estate Investor is a bitchy, ambitious, money-obsessed narcissist; the Medium is a stoner-voiced spiritualist hippie; and the Religious Fanatic is a sanctimonious, judgemental prude. In their individual way, each offers up an observation on the labels that women are forced to assign themselves in order to be accepted as rounded human beings, while their purposefully generic interpretations ultimately becomes significant to the plot.

As well as an incisive piece of social commentary, Ten is also a highly entertaining horror film with a distinct aesthetic. The story is set in the ‘70s, and with the saturated colour and high contrast of a giallo it even looks like it was actually filmed then; the confines of a creepy old house is a perfect (and cheap!) setting for the pig-masked butcher killer to appear and disappear at will; and some trippy sound editing and visual effects add to unreality of the scenario, as do a few touches of black humour such as one character dying while quoting Mercutio’s death soliloquy from Romeo and Juliet.

Instead of appearing cluttered, the large ensemble cast works in the film’s favour. In early scenes the crowd of them is large enough that you can miss one of them inexplicably vanishing from one shot to the next, only realising your oversight when she suddenly appears elsewhere, while the early disorientation from attempting to assimilate so many characters means we are never ahead of them in knowing what’s going on.

The advantage of the film being from a female perspective means that some otherwise exploitative aspects, such as the Model stripping naked before deriding everyone else for the facades they hide behind or the Coed nosebleeding into her immense cleavage, appear more matter of fact than cheaply gratuitous, thus avoiding distracting from the film’s themes. The ultimate revelation behind the events is as incredibly simple as it is joyfully ridiculous, and perfectly fits both the slasher plot and the observations on women’s defined societal roles. Ten might be fun and gory, but it also manages to think a little along the way.

TEN / CERT: TBC / DIRECTOR: SOPHIA CACCIOLA, MICHAEL J. EPSTEIN / SCREENPLAY: MICHAEL J. EPSTEIN, SARAH WAIT ZARANEK, JADE SYLVAN, SOPHIA CACCIOLA / STARRING: JADE SYLVAN, MOLLY DEVON, SUSANNAH PLASTER, KARIN WEBB, PORCELAIN DALYA / RELEASE DATE: TBC
 

Seven former sorority sisters and their gay BFF reunite for a girly weekend on a remote ranch to reconnect with each other. Problem is, their cabin just so happens to be where a group of obnoxious teenage girls were murdered 15 years earlier, and it soon transpires that the killer may have returned.

Nobody is going to argue that the plight of women in horror films is an imbalance that still needs to be adequately redressed, and a slasher movie with only one significant male character is certainly a step in the right direction. The character interplay between the ladies informs much of the film’s events, and is just as significant as the slowly escalating mass murder mystery.

It’s common in many horror films to have murders occur along a particular theme, often in accordance to some mythological or philosophical motif, but the deaths in Crazy Bitches are styled with a far simpler and much more personal concept: vanity. Each death is tailored to be symbolic of what each woman is most self-absorbed about – hair, skin, legs and so on – removing what defined them in life to leave them empty in death.

We are given plenty of potential suspects in the form of gossipy and horny locals and dirty redneck ranch hands, not to mention the ladies themselves, whose varying attitudes towards one another throw up at least a little suspicion. Along the way to the final reveal we get a few running jokes such as one character’s repeated exclamation of “fuckin’ straight girls” when left frustrated after aborted amorous encounters, and some neat visual touches like lightning flashing on spider webs or shots from the killer’s point of view seen through a mesh mask.

The film is actually quite low-key for a slasher movie, lacking voluminous fountains of blood or insignificant minor characters drafted in to jack up the body count, and it’s over an hour before the first corpse is even discovered. Once the situation is realised, shock and panic start to set in with revelations of previous indiscretions coming in thick and fast (“Has any one of my friends not slept with my husband?”) along with graphic flashbacks to the girls’ sordid past encounters, during which we get a bit of male objectification for a nice change. Any down time is used to develop the characters in order for their deaths to make an impact, even if it’s ones you may not particularly like.

Exploring the dynamics of female relationships through the medium of slasher flicks might seem an odd concept, but it’s one that acquits itself well, giving a balance of perspectives sorely absent from much of the genre, and resulting in a film that doesn’t quite fit, but is all the more interesting because of it.

CRAZY BITCHES / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: JANE CLARK / STARRING: SAMANTHA COLBURN, CATHY DEBUONO, ANDY GALA, LIZ MCGEEVER, VICTORIA PROFETA / RELEASE DATE: OUT NOW
 

It’s rare that a film’s central character has absolutely no redeemable qualities whatsoever, but Jason Schwartzman’s Philip soundly achieves this dubious accolade in Alex Ross Perry’s comedy drama, Listen Up Philip.

Philip is a writer of at least modest talent who finds himself flitting around the outskirts of the New York literary scene. He experienced some success with his debut novel, but as he nervously awaits the release of his second, it becomes evident that regardless of what the general public thinks, he sees himself as an underappreciated genius.

He is also an obnoxious misanthrope from the very off and in our early introduction to the character, we see him committing such social pleasantries as meeting up with an old friend just so he can chastise him and meeting with an ex in order to to bemoan her for never believing in him. He also repeatedly belittles his sweet natured girlfriend Ashley (Elisabeth Moss) before walking out on her to go and live in the country retreat of his newfound mentor Ike Zimmerman (Jonathan Pryce). Zimmerman is himself a rotten character, a renowned writer who has experienced great success in his past and who still buys into his own narcissistic hype. Between the pair of them, they wallow in their respective egomania, and gradually push everyone who loves them away in the process.

The key focus of Perry’s film is the fragile nature of writers told through the experiences of these two self-absorbed individuals. The three lead characters play their parts perfectly, and while Schwartzman’s deadpan malcontent and Pryce’s deluded blowhard hog most of the focus, it’s Moss’ Ashley who really shines. Maybe it’s because she is the only truly likeable character we are introduced to, but Ashley soon becomes the human heart of the story. A fair portion of the film is given over to her attempts to move on from Philip and rid herself of his poison for good. One particularly striking moment comes after a stormy meeting between the two in her flat. Alone once more, the camera lingers on Moss’ face and she gives us a whole range of emotions that perfectly encapsulate the anger, struggle and relief that can be found in cutting someone toxic out of your life.

There is plenty of humour to be found throughout Listen Up Philip but it is particularly dark and frequently of the cringe-inducing awkward variety. Often you find yourself not so much laughing at a clever line, but simply at the awfulness of behaviour on show.

The film’s ongoing narration is utilised skilfully as a means of constantly reframing events in order to put them in context of how they affect Philip. A process that taps into Philip’s own self belief that the world truly revolves around him. Tonally, the film feels like a less polished Wes Anderson movie only with all the twee taken out and extra mean-spirited scumbaggery added in instead. It’s a funny and oddly captivating movie that is buoyed by its central cast who each absolutely nail their characters, foibles and all. The ultimate message to take home seemingly being to just leave the jerks to it, you’re really better off without them.

LISTEN UP PHILIP / CERT: 15 / DIRECTOR & SCREENPLAY: ALEX ROSS PERRY / STARRING: JASON SCHWARTZMAN, ELISABETH MOSS, JONATHAN PRYCE, KRYSTEN RITTER, JOSEPHINE DE LA BAUME / RELEASE DATE: JULY 27TH